


At a Loss

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Sad Keith (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: Coran sees the gulf grow ever-wider between Keith and his fellow paladins and decides it's up to him to cheer the red paladin up. It's time for an intervention of sorts from the universe's most gorgeous man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. Drabbly drabble. No beta. BLOOP!

Coran watched the others buzz around Keith excitedly. Hunk inspected the Marmora suit with unashamed vigour; tapping on the plating and lifting up one of Keith’s slender arms to gaze curiously at his armpit. Pidge and Matt joked back and forth about how they’d been tinkering with the lions, while Lance crowed about his burgeoning relationship with Red. Allura offered a cordial hug before drifting back to the helm to continue her mapping. And Shiro…

‘You said you’d report in two quintants ago. We were waiting.’

One by one, the small group peeled away from Keith and turned to face Shiro who stood aside with his arms folded.  
  
’I… I'm sorry.’ He bit on air. ‘I didn’t have…’  
  
’Keith, you should know better than this. We were counting on those comms. You really let us down.’  
  
Keith pulled his head back like a struck animal. 'We–’ His eyes canted sideways to Kolivan who stared back, offering little more than a tip of his head. 'There were complications.’

Shiro stepped forward and the others parted like water before a battleship. He levelled his dark eyes at Keith, who looked away; a scolded child. Taking Keith by both shoulders, Shiro’s voice was soft but strained when he said, 'This is a war, Keith. You have responsibilities.’  
  
Keith shrank beneath Shiro’s benevolent touch. 'I know. Sorry. I'm sorry.’ His voice was as brittle as a dried flower.  
  
Kolivan–always tense and careful around the paladins–edged towards Coran with a terse nod. Coran nodded back, but his eyes didn’t stray from Shiro and Keith. Kolivan spoke, low and grave. 'I will return to the base to take care of some arrangements.’  
  
'Very good,’ said Coran. He cleared his throat and rocked forward on his toes, pulling on his moustache. 'These, eh, _complications_ and _arrangements_ to be taken care of…’  
  
'Look after him until I return.’ Kolivan made the smallest gesture towards his newest recruit. ‘He is very troubled by events.’  
  
That’s when Coran saw it: The faint patina of galra blood between Keith’s jawline and ear. Then the stiff tips of his dark hair, clumped together with sweat and death. When he glanced down, the calluses on Kolivan’s hands were ringed in flaking blood. He didn’t judge. He knew, too well, the job in cleaning up the wash from a vanished comrade. Keith had held someone, or carried someone–had propped their head against his shoulder, most likely–and that someone was now dead.  
  
'I see,’ said Coran. 'My, eh… my condolences.’  
  
’A war,’ said Kolivan, moving towards the exit. ‘As your Black Lion says.’  
  
Coran turned back to the group. They were guiding Keith towards the couches, leaving Shiro in their wake. The Black Paladin followed Kolivan’s retreat with shrewd, thoughtful eyes, while Keith–trapped by sloppy hugs and aimless ramblings–risked an awkward glance back at the Black Paladin of Voltron.

'Oh!’ Pidge shouted, tugging Matt towards her with one small arm and shaking Coran from his musings. 'We forgot to tell you, Keith. Matt’s bunking in your room while you’re out of action. Hope that’s okay!’

OoO 

The lounge’s lights were down, but not off, when Coran entered in search of Keith. Immediately, he spied the boy’s long legs poking out from behind the back of one of the couches.

‘Keith?’

There was some shuffling and grunting before Keith emerged like a wild creature, head topped with impressive bed hair. Cleaned-up, he didn't look half as bad as he did when he first arrived with Kolivan, however, and Coran’s heart opened a little.

‘Coran,’ Keith said, but it was more of a rattling squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again with more success.

‘Thought you might like this,’ Coran said, holding out the little box he’d kept stowed in his nightstand from before the war. ‘10,000 years old, but it still works. That’s Altean technology for you.’

Keith cocked his head. He looked painfully, painfully young. ‘What is it?’

After a gentle, inviting nod from Keith, Coran approached. ‘It’s a, eh, Somnum Frequency Generator. I set it to somewhere between a Galra and a Human; plays a sound that aids sleep. Very effective.’ Rounding the corner of the couch, he saw the humble nest Keith had made for himself: a few blankets, his Red Paladin robe, and a rolled up kit bag for a pillow. ‘Oh, Keith. We can find you a room.’

He smiled, dimples like Balmera craters. It was the smile of someone that didn't want to be found out. ‘It’s fine. I’m not here for long.’ He turned and gestured out the vast windows. ‘Besides, it’s nice to see the stars so… empty. Feels normal somehow.’

Coran pursed his lips and, very slowly, placed himself on the arm of the couch. He handed the box to Keith who received it like it’s the most precious and mysterious item in the world. He turned it over, soulful eyes inspecting. He pressed a button and startled when a deep whirring sound struck up. He chuckled and pressed another button, awed face lit by a shower of illuminated stars from the box.

‘You’re a sweet lad, Keith.’

Keith stopped his prodding and stared back at Coran, apparently unconvinced.

‘Someone with a heart as big as yours…’ Coran faltered, seeing Keith draw back; shoulders hunching and eyes sharpening to bright caution. ‘Well, there’s more room for hurt, you see.’

The boy’s expression turned slate cold and flat. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is you think I’m not handling, I am.’

Coran considered him. Considered his shrewd eyes, his primed muscles, his cheek half-turned for a bitter strike, his long fingers frozen, clutching the box.

‘Of course,’ Coran said. ‘Of course you are.’ He pointed at the little cube. ‘You’ll keep hold of the box, though, won’t you? For me?’

‘You don’t need it?’

Coran pressed his lips together a moment. ‘Nah,’ he said at last. ‘I’d always hoped to pass it on to someone.’ _A daughter. A son._

‘Thanks Coran.’

He stood and smiled. His heart swelled when Keith grinned back. ‘A pleasure, Keith. Try to get some sleep.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make me stop! Drabblin'. Get at me on tumblr! froldgapp.tumblr.com

Keith watched the cartoonish stars cast by the small cube drift across the ceiling and vanish against the actual star-field through the windows. The deep, pulsing sound emitted by the box resonated in the back of his throat, and thrummed down his spine. He struggled to keep his hot, heavy eyes open. But he knew that in the lightless moments, he'd see Thace's bright wound, Ulaz's crushed ship, Regris's whipping tail, and Dorvak's rolling eyes. He'd hear Dorvak's pitiful moans: _please, please, please, no, no,_  as the pole-thin galra writhed in his arms, wet fur sliding against his neck like a painter's brush. Gone. Another body.

A burning breath hitched in his chest. He fumbled at the cube and slid up the volume dial. It flashed red in warning: a holographic brain symbol with a cross through it. Dismissing the warning, Keith pushed the slider to its fullest. His sternum rattled with the thrumming bass. He sobbed once, a dry thing, and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

OoO

He woke to chaos: slamming doors and thudding boots. It was a struggle to open his gluey eyes; more so to push his head from the warm nest of his blanket, though he kept himself buried up to the nose. The cube lay discarded on his lap; powered down and starless. 

He jumped as bodies flashed by him; blues, browns, greens, oranges. Someone issued a screeching battle cry.

Hunk rolled between the couches in front of him. 'Brrch! Brrch!' he sounded, popping up from behind one with fingers drawn together in a gun. 

Matt roared with fake pain. 'I'm hit! I'm hit!'

'Get 'im, Hunk!' shouted Lance, forward rolling past Keith on the other side.

Keith was dumbfounded. They were _playing._  Rage bubbled up his throat, but it died in the next moment: choked by the clenching of his heart. What could he say? He didn't belong here. He never did. He was just a passing shadow now. A loner. A bottomless, baseless downer.

Maybe if he could just stay quiet...

'I will avenge you, Matt! Take this, Garret!' cried Pidge. 'Pachoo! Pachoo!'

Lance round-house kicked at nothing and landed in front of Hunk in defense, then faux-stumbled backwards with each "hit" to lay prone on the couch. He gurgled wetly, a thin line of drool sliding from his slack mouth.

'No, man! Body shot,' mourned Hunk, rushing to Lance and pulling his limp form into his arms. 'Why!?' he cried. 'He had so many more milkshakes to give this world!'

'Oh, hey Keith.' Damn. 'What are you doing here?' Matt was frozen with one hand still clutched against his imagined wound.

Caught at last, Keith sighed and sat up, making sure to keep the blankets clutched against his bare chest. 'Hey, guys. Sorry. I, um, I couldn't find an unlocked room so–'

'We didn't wake you did we?' asked Hunk, depositing Lance back on the cushions. 'Didn't know you were here, man. H-honestly, kind of forgot you guys came back. Was kind of late and stuff...'

Keith swallowed and attempted a smile. 'No, no, I–'

'You didn't think to ask Coran for an unlock code for one of the spare rooms?' asked Pidge. 'If we knew you were here we would have had our showdown somewhere else. Did we really wake you?'

'Well, yeah, but–'

'I mean, this is the common area, so...' Lance threw his long legs over the back of the couch and shrugged at Keith upside down. 'Deal, I guess.'

'Yeah, right. I know. I'm sorry.' His cheeks were burning; his heart racing. _No, no, no._ 'I wasn't complaining.'

Lance gestured at his own face, which he'd pulled down in an impressive frown. 'I can read you like an open weblum butt. Your face was complaining,' he said, voice distorted by the expression.

'My face wasn't doing anything! Look, I'm sorry if I'm in the way. I'll–'

'Keith!' Coran's voice boomed from the intercom. 'Please report to my...' There was some crashing and banging over the line. 'The eh... hangars for some important... space...man...work.'

The room fell quiet under the blanket of Coran-induced confusion.

'What the hell's he talking about?' asked Pidge.

Keith slipped from his makeshift bed, pulled on his old black shirt and stepped into his jeans. The clothes he'd once been so familiar in felt alien to him now. He lived in his blade suit these days. In threadbare cotton and holy jeans he felt naked. Vulnerable. 'I guess I should go,' he said, tottering on sleep-shaky legs towards the door.

Behind him, he heard the others mumbling; trying to figure out what "spaceman work" could possibly involve.

'See you later, Keith!' Matt called. Keith waved back and almost walked smack into the doorjamb. He caught himself and shuffled around the wall awkwardly.

'Yeah, see you later, Grace!' called Lance.

Hunk snickered, 'Good one, Lance!'

Out in the hallway, he could breathe again. The others were chattering loudly about breakfast in his wake. His stomach gurgled angrily, and he pressed a hand to his belly in an attempt to quiet it. It's not like he'd be able to stomach Hunk's rich cooking anyway; his system so used to dried goods and nutrition drinks.

Rounding the next corner, he collided with Coran who caught him by the shoulders with both hands.

'A-ha!' cried the advisor. 'I was hoping to intercept you, number four.'

'Number four... Haven't I been demoted?' asked Keith, glum, in spite of himself. 'Now Matt's here...'

'No, no, no,' Coran chuckled. 'You'll always be the second shortest member of the team to me!'

Keith made a face. 'Thanks.'

Coran had flipped Keith around so they were walking in the same direction. He slung one arm across Keith's back and guided him towards the shoot to the lower levels. They stepped in together. 'Besides, Matt's not a paladin like you. Fantastic rebel–second to none–but not a paladin.'

Halting at the shoot's control panel, Keith muttered. 'I'm not a paladin.'

'Keith,' Coran said, softly. 'Of course you are.'

'Coran,' Keith began, then tutted. 'What are you doing? There's no "spaceman work". Why did you want me?'

'I've been rumbled!' Coran laughed, bashfully. 'Well, Keith, if you must know, I fancied a stroll through Alfor's memorial arboretum, and as red paladin, I thought you might like to join me.' Coran tugged on his moustache awkwardly. 'Truth be telt, I selfishly wanted your time all to myself.'

Keith narrowed his eyes. 'I don't believe you.'

Coran looked wounded as he rested his finger on what Keith assumed to be the arboretum's floor. He sighed with deeply heaving shoulders. 'I miss him, Keith.' 

It was strange to see Coran look so sorrowful. Keith wasn't quite so stupid as to forget that millennia ago, Coran had enjoyed a lifetime's friendship with his predecessor. But the Altean advisor was so very good at _pretending_. Maybe they all were.

Keith lifted his finger and placed it over Coran's, pressing the button. The doors slid closed quietly. 'A pleasure, Coran.' 


End file.
